Can’t Live Without. shak.

Every last time we’ve thus far concertedly focussed our every attention on shak. – née Shakuru Tajiri – the aftertaste been in the exact same tone, with better than the last one as yet the general consensus. First came Maybe, U.; then Same Time, Same Places and indeed once again I’d go so far as to endow Without. with the estimable epithet of best yet. Were it to lay any further back, it’d be flat-out as guitar lines redolent of Chris Rea wind seductively around clipped trap beats like colourless smoke rings caught in the dangly glinting of an exorbitant chandelier and, expansive without ever sounding overly expensive; immaculately pieced together without emanating the impression of overproduction, it’s another to subtly insinuate we’re struggling to live without shak.